How to turn 24 hours into a nearly psychotic episode


by rubberpaw via creative commons

Discover a series of calls to my phone from an unfamiliar number.

Wonder why there are no messages.

Google the phone number because I think it is from a potential new client. It’s not. No other information available. Dismiss it as a wrong number.

Check e-mail.

Learn that a potential employer — not the one I am expecting to call but another one out of the blue with an enticing proposition  — has made several attempts to reach me.

Make snap decision based on multiple factors, including lack of time to think and previous string of bogus e-mails for job openings that require “significant available credit” and “must be a U.S. citizenship.”

Forget about phone calls. Forget about e-mail.

Attempt to balance overflowing platter of various plans and commitments and obligations and must-dos from the threshold of Friday to the gate of Monday.

Worry about possible client that has not called.

Awaken Monday morning and call company after reading its Web site.

Engage in productive conversation with company representative.

Schedule job interview.

End call. Jump for joy that a large-sized, reputable company has noticed me.

Come to my senses and collapse in heap on floor.

Realize that I have spent all my time looking and no time preparing.

Discover that I do not have 20-pound bond paper on which to print a resume and list of personal references.

Panic because I truly have nothing appropriate to wear.

Gag over the one suit I own, which I wore when Bill Clinton was mentoring Monica Lewinsky.

Wonder if it, too, has a stain on it.

Focus on the fact that I still don’t have real eyeglasses. Damn, why didn’t I make that appointment to get my eyes checked?

Consider that I need to find a babysitter.

Lose control of my senses and play the What If? game: What if they offer me a job? Good god, I don’t have any daycare  lined up. What if I can’t honor all the commitments to which I just agreed? What if my child freaks out because I have to pull her out of a school I just enrolled her in? What if the Earth explodes tomorrow?

Tell myself to shut up. Sit down. Breathe.

Fire off a barrage of phone calls, fill lined paper with list of thing to accomplish.


Start checking off items on list as they are accomplished.

Schedule time to find a new outfit for interviews.

Research company. Take notes. Realize company is big, with offices on both hemispheres. This might be a very nice position to land.

Direct mental note to self: Take any and all calls. Follow up immediately. Things fly at me when I least expect it.

Perform a quickie manicure and pedicure. Conduct other personal maintenance measures often neglected by a person who works at home and alone.

Prepare answers to potential questions and follow-up questions.

Sleep fitfully for about  five hours.

Wake up. Drink about two pots of coffee.

Attend youngest child’s first day of preschool and orientation.

Eat lunch. Start to believe things are turning around. This is a sign. I’m sure of it.

Feel the vibration of my cell phone. Answer it. It’s that number again. The one from last week.

Listen but fail to comprehend that job interview is canceled. Company has decided not to fill the position after all.

Feel a vein pop in my head. Maybe it’s an artery. I can never remember.

Understand that there’s a valuable lesson in all this.

Reassure you that when I figure it out, I’ll let you know.

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